The Fire Mage King

Ashe was born the year the Eagle Crested King died, and the Seer of his village said the boy would become great. To his parents that much was obvious, for how else could such common folk sire so remarkable a child as he? Truth be told, his name was not Ashe, but Geinshif, but when people saw the brilliant red hair sprouting from his head like flames, Ashe, which meant fire in their language, seemed a more appropriate name.

They say that names possess a magical quality, and that seemed true enough, for when Ashe was a child of ten, he dreamed the World Dragon came to visit him. In his dream, he saw the earth split wide, and he gaped at the World’s heart blood. The Dragon spoke to him, saying, “My favorite son has been dead for ten years now. If you will accept my gift, I shall name you his successor.”

“Yes, I will accept it,” Ashe answered, almost leaping to his feet with eagerness.

“It is a great power you will wield,” the Dragon cautioned, “If you take it, you will be able to bring ruin upon yourself such as no man has ever done. Will you still accept that responsibility?”

“I will be very careful with it,” Ashe promised. “I accept your gift.”

As soon as the words passed his lips, a tiny glowing ember rose slowly out of the chasm, lighting in Ashe’s open hands. Its warmth filled the boy with a sense of power. The heat of the flame did not burn him, but took root within him, and he knew that he could now wield a great power indeed.

When he went out the next day with his father to the fields, he found that without effort, he could cause fire to spring to life in his hands. With this new talent, he impressed his father, and they cooked their meal. Drawn to the scent of meat, a pack of fierce wolves broke from the line of trees surrounding their village. The creatures fell on the farmers and the shepherds, killing men and livestock alike. When they came to Ashe and his father, Ashe scorched them with the power of his fire until every one lay dead at his feet.

His father stood amazed, unable to speak from shock. Ashe looked at the bodies of the men and sheep that lay around him, and at those of the wolves at his feet. He then looked up at his father’s face.

“I think I will go away,” he said to his father. “This is not the place for me anymore.” So saying, he took up some of the food he had cooked and left, never once looking back.


With his new power over fire, Ashe found himself never in want for food nor warmth, nor without protection from monsters and terrible beasts. He wandered the breadth of the land, in search of what would give him glory. The Dragon had granted him a great power after all, and said it would make him heir to the Eagle Crested King. He was meant for bigger things than a few wolves in a little village scraping its existence off the land.

Ashe wandered for a long time, until he came to a great cabin hidden in a ravine in a deep forest. It stood nearly twenty feet tall, and a thick plume of smoke billowed from the eaves so that the trees all stank of it. Unafraid, Ashe strode up to the vast wooden door and knocked at it as mightily as he could. The wood was heavy and thick, so that his tiny knuckles made no sound against it. He was about to try again, when the door swung open with a mighty rush of wind which nearly knocked him down. Inside the dark cabin, Ashe saw a giant, who stood so tall that his head nearly scraped the ceiling of the great house in which he lived.

“What’s this?” the giant marveled. When he spoke, Ashe could see his jagged, crooked teeth poking from behind lips and beard as black as pitch. Thick, eager fingers dark with grime clutched at the jam as the giant knelt to get a better look at the boy. “I thought I had devoured the inhabitants of all the nearby villages. Have you come to add flavor to my pot, then, child?”

“I am Ashe. The Dragon itself has chosen me to succeed the Eagle Crested King. I am traveling in search of monsters and demons to fight.”

“Ha! Those are big boasts, small man!” the giant laughed. “Have you come to fight me, then?”

“What will you give me if I win?” Ashe demanded. “As a hero, I must have trophies from my battles.”

The giant laughed again, and his foul breath stank worse than that of the greasy smoke pouring from the open door. “What bold words you use!” the giant taunted. “So be it. I will fight with you. If you lose, I will boil the meat off your bones. If you win, I will give you my prized possession: a strong elixir I have made by distilling the livers and hearts of griffins, wolves, and other monsters. By drinking it, I have gained enormous strength and grown to my great size. If you defeat me, then you might have the strength to take it. If you don’t, then it will destroy you.”

“The Dragon would not have chosen me if I couldn’t stand up to you,” Ashe asserted boldly. "I am not afraid of you or your potion."

The giant reached out with his massive hands, catching Ashe up in them easily, but he roared with pain when he found his flesh seared by the fire that Ashe called up. He dropped the boy, who darted forward, scorching the flesh on his feet and legs. The giant bellowed so that the trees shuddered, but whenever he tried to take hold of Ashe, he found himself burnt and bleeding. Ashe took care to dart around the giant’s fists, to keep from being crushed. At last, tired of tormenting the giant, Ashe found a long shaft of wood, and took it up. He lit the end on fire, and while the giant knelt, clutching at his blistering feet, Ashe charged forward and drove the burning point through one of the monster’s eyes.

The giant howled and fell to the ground with such force that Ashe was knocked off his feet. Ashe picked himself up, and approached the giant. “I have beaten you, monster, and quite soundly. Give me your elixir.”
“Ach! How I regret my hasty words!” the giant moaned, but he pointed to the darkness within his cabin. “You will find the cauldron within, above my hearth. Take what you can stomach.”

Ashe stepped past the fallen giant into the stinking, wooden house. Inside, the smoke billowed so thickly that Ashe could scarcely see his hands, but at last he caught sight of an evil-looking red flame, above which a black, iron cauldron was set. It was from this fire that the smoke came, and when he peered more closely, Ashe could see the carcasses of serpents and griffins and wolves which fueled the flames. Ashe climbed a nearby chair, and even standing upon the seat he could barely peek over the edge of the cauldron. Within the iron vessel stood a thick, ichorous liquid, bubbling with the heat, and from it came the stench which hung in the air.

Ashe carried a wooden bowl with him, and with it, he caught up some of the potion, and took the draught in one swallow. The wooden chair creaked beneath him, and he could feel at once the strength of many men coming into his limbs. Rejoicing at his good fortune at finding such magic, he dipped his bowl once more and drank from the cauldron a second time.

“You greedy thief!” the giant shouted from the door. “You dare to take so much?”

“I will take more before I will be satisfied,” Ashe replied, and drew up a third dose.

Outraged, the giant summoned his strength, and rose to his feet. Driven by fury, he dove inside, to knock Ashe from his perch, but the boy jumped nimbly to one side. Instead, the giant crashed headlong into the cauldron, spilling the rest of the elixir, drowning the fire and ruining the mix.

“What have you done!” Ashe cried. “I could have had the strength of a hundred men, but now all I shall have is thirty!”

“Thirty is more than enough for the likes of you,” the giant sneered. “Miserable manner of man that you are.” So angry was he that he reached once more for Ashe, heedless of the fire. With the new strength that he had acquired, Ashe beat back the giant’s hands, and broke the chair with one blow. Ashe took up one of the legs and stove in the giant’s head.

“That is the first of the great things that I shall do,” Ashe said. “But I shall do much more than that.” He found that in taking the potion he had grown to the size and form of a man, and that his clothes did not fit him. More than that, he had taken on the weight of many men as well, as he could hear the wood beneath his feet groan as he trod on it. Upon searching the giant’s cabin, he found a pile of clothes thrown in a corner from the people the giant had eaten. In the pile, Ashe found a suit of armor and a sword which suited him well, and he went out in them.


Ashe traveled still farther. With the strength he held in each hand, he found he could tear beasts apart without need of weapons, and the fire he wielded could easily slay the rest. Within a year he was able to weave together a mantle of the skins and hides of the creatures he had slain, and became well known for it. When he had saved seven dozen villages and towns from the ravages of the evil nightmares of the world, he stumbled across a valley hidden deep within the forbidden mountains. The dell was vast and full of otherworldly light, and the scents of blooming flowers drifted on the gentlest of breezes. Standing within the center of the valley, tall and straight as though it were a single piece of worked stone, stood a white tower.

As Ashe came closer, he saw that no vines covered the stone face of the tower, and no weather had worn cracks or stains into the pale marble. It seemed to him that the tower must have been placed there, perhaps by the hand of a god, and quite recently. At the tower’s base, he found gold and silver gates swung open to him. He entered, and found the antechamber elegantly furnished and well lit. To one side stood a well-fashioned table, upon which was set a silver basin full of clear water, and a fine cloth. He washed his face and hands before making his way into the next room.

Sitting on a great white and gold throne sat a lady of immeasurable beauty. Seeing her radiance struck Ashe to the core, and for the first time in years he felt his knees go weak at the sight. Once he had caught his breath, he spotted the glittering sword which she had laid across her lap, her white hand upon its pommel.

“You have accomplished much, Ashe,” the woman said to him. “You have helped to ease the suffering of the World and of Men.”

“I have,” he agreed, and showed her the mantle as evidence. “I swore to the Dragon that I would guard this power which it gave me, and I have done so. Are you the Faery Queen who bestowed the Great Sword—the weapon of supreme authority—upon the Eagle-Crested King?”

“Do you think this is that selfsame sword?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you think you are worthy to wield it?”

“I do.”

“Do you understand what it is you mean to wield?” The woman’s hand closed more tightly about the pommel. “Bound up in this blade is the authority to speak for the Dragon; to enter into contracts with the Fae and any other creatures who live upon the Dragon’s back. With it you will be able to rule all the nations who revere the Dragon. Do you still think you are worthy of it?”

“I do.”

“And what will you if you be not worthy?” she asked. Ashe felt the blood rush to his face.

“If I be not worthy, then may I have all that I love stripped from me; may I be the most reviled of men; and may the Dragon deny me any rightful lineage. Does that satisfy you?”

“By your own words, then.”

“Will you now give that rightful weapon to me?” he demanded, and he threw the mantle to the floor in anger. The woman did not so much as glance at the cloak of furs at her feet.

“I will not stop you if you mean to take it,” she answered, and lifted her hand from the pommel. Boldly, Ashe ascended to her throne and lifted the sword from her lap. The blade was beautiful, almost more so than the woman. The metal shone like the sun, and when Ashe tested the edge against his thumb, he found it sharper than any he had ever held. He gazed at the weapon for a space, thinking he could not contain himself for the joy and pride swelling within him. He knew then that he was the true heir to the Eagle-Crested King.
At last, he realized that he could stand staring no longer, and cast about for a sheath. Finding none, he drew the sword he carried with him from its housing and threw it to one side, breaking the blade in half on the throne’s steps.

“You deserve a better cloak than this, but for now you will have to make do with plain leather,” Ashe said as he sheathed the Great Sword in the worn and paltry leather. His eyes rose to the woman. “What of you?” he asked. “It is said that the Faery Queen gave herself to the Eagle-Crested King.”

“It is said.”

“Will you give yourself to me?” Ashe asked, for he had a strong taste for her smooth skin and the soft curls of her dark hair. But the woman only looked into him with her dark eyes. Her face betrayed no warmth, nor coldness, nor anticipation. It was as if she were seeing him from some distant place, from a time long past. Her look angered him. “You look down on me from your high place,” he said. “Yet I am the heir to the Eagle King. If I wield his authority, are you not bound to serve me also?”

“You are the chosen heir,” she said, “and you carry the Sword.” But her eyes continued to see from a great distance. Her look stuck his pride, and rage boiled within him that she should not see what even the World Dragon had known. Furious, ashamed, and brimming with base lust, he took her. Yet she never cried out, no matter how he tried to hurt her, nor was she surprised, or frightened. He left the tower with a terrible fury, convincing himself that he would show her his worth one way or the other, and that he had taught her a lesson she would not soon forget.

The years passed, and he slew even greater monsters and demons. With the power of the Sword, he made the nations bow to him and give up their wealth, their prayers, and anything else that he desired unto him. At last, Ashe sat at the pinnacle of a great empire, and by his strength and might, Men ravaged the land, wreaking terrible vengeance for the monsters they had suffered before. Ashe cared little for the younger Races which came to him for succor. He reasoned that the Eagle-Crested King had little use for dwarves, the bird men, or even the descendants of the unicorns, so he should have no need for them either. The Sword was his strength, after all, and that was the might of the World Dragon itself.

At last, the monsters and demons had been driven to desperation, and they formed a great and terrible army such as the World had never seen, and they marched against Ashe’s empire with all their strength. He fought against them with all that he had, but though he could stand against the marauding force alone, his men could not, and they began to fall. Still, he fought against the evil creatures, putting his faith in the might of his Sword.

When half his cities had fallen, A’Fahl, of the descendants of the unicorns, came to him.

“I knew the Eagle-King,” he said, “and fought alongside him more than once. I have come with my brothers to aid you, Heir to the Sword, in this battle.”

“What of that magic which your people wield?” Ashe demanded. “It is said your people can cure any injury or sickness.”

“My wife and my sisters will tend to the wounded, and heal the plagues which the vile demons wreak upon you,” A’Fahl assured. “We are yours to command, for we will obey the will of the Dragon as we did your forebear.”

Ashe accepted his help. Then came a force of the bird men, some mounted upon the backs of hippogriffs or the great eagles of their mountains. “We will also help you in this fight,” said their queen, “as the Eagle-King, in saving the world of Men, saved us all as well.”

And the dwarves came also, saying much the same.

So allied, Ashe and the others fell into a great and terrible battle which set fire to the land, and covered it with smoke and death. In the confusion, he became separated from his army, and stumbled to the shore of the sea which lay to the north. As he lay recovering his strength, he saw fourteen great swans descend from the clouds and alight in the waves. Then, they took to the shore and doffed cloaks of white feathers, revealing the forms of fair maidens who bathed themselves in the sea. Careful to avoid detection, Ashe stole across the shore and snatched up one of the feathery cloaks. When the maidens had finished gamboling in the sea, they rushed to their cloaks to take again the forms of swans. Thirteen of the maidens found theirs, and took to the air, but the last found that hers was missing, and wept aloud.

“What is the matter?” Ashe asked her as he came from his hiding spot.

“I have lost my cloak, and therefore my wings,” the maiden sobbed, and wrung her dainty hands. Ashe held up her cloak, but snatched it away when she reached for it.

“Will you be my wife, if I give this to you?” he asked her, for her gentle face much pleased him. In faith, he had long since taken a wife, but she no longer pleased him, for she had never borne him any children, and he wished to be quit of her.

“I would,” the swan maiden said, “yet I have a sister much fairer than I, and she is in greater danger than I as well. If you were to save her, my mother, the moon, would surely grant you greater gifts.”

That answer pleased Ashe more. “Where is your sister?”

“She is held captive by a terrible Wurm which gnaws on the World Dragon’s bones,” the maiden explained. “It keeps its lair on a great island within a reef, so no ship can reach it, and its sides are so sheer than no man can scale them.”

“Those are naught to me,” he told her, “and doubtless I could reach the island if you carried me there.”

“I doubt one such as myself could lift you, sir,” said the maiden. “Though if you give me my cloak, I will try.” He consented, and took hold of one of her feet once she had changed. Yet struggle as she might, she could not lift him into the air.

“It is no use,” said the swan. “You are heavier than any man alive. If I could go to my sisters, together we might be able to lift you.”

“I will not let you fly off, never to return,” he told her, and tore her cloak from her back.

“I give my word that I shall return!” the maiden protested, weeping for the loss of her cloak once more. Ashe told her that her word was nothing to him, and demanded she leave something with him to ensure that she would return. At last, he settled on taking her hair, saying she could only have it back if she returned with her sisters. The maiden wept bitterly as he cut the white hair from her head, and flew up into the sky. Ashe waited for nearly two weeks, but at last he saw a flock of swans coming down from the moonlit sky towards him.

“Why were you gone so long?” he demanded of the shorn maiden.

“The moon is far away,” the maiden answered, “even to fly there.” So he gave her back her hair. The swan maidens had brought with them a long, invisible thread, of the kind which held the stars in the sky, and bade him take hold of it; they would tie the rest about their feet in order to lift him. Once he had taken the thread in his hands, the swans lifted him high into the air, and soared across the raging, black sea. More than once, he feared that the swans would drop him, yet they were true to their word and bore him high aloft, far from the reaches of the serpents which ploughed the waves below. At last, a great shape rose from the deep, and he beheld a terrible spire of rock which was nothing more than knives of black stone and obsidian, atop which sat a foreboding fortress of black stone. The swans flew him to the base of the fortress and set him down.

“We will return when you have saved our sister,” they told him, and flew away before he could demand anything more than their promise. With nothing else he could do, Ashe scaled the fortress wall and dropped down within it. He found that he had fallen into a strange garden of twisted thorns and blooming flowers in blood red or black. The sound of the raging sea and screaming winds could not come over the wall, so that he was able to detect the sound of weeping through the strange, alien foliage. Ashe followed the sound until he saw a beautiful woman with hair the color of moonlight, as fine and light as spider webs. Her skin was like the smooth face of pale pearls, her lips were the paleness of a single drop of blood in a cup of milk, and her eyes showed the color of the early morning with the sparkle of stars. Upon her head was set a silver crown set with fourteen tiny stars for jewels, and at her feet there lay a mound of pale blue diamonds and pearls.

The maiden started when she saw him, and jumped to her feet. “You shouldn’t be here!” she whispered. “If the Wurm were to find you, he’d swallow you, flesh and soul!”

“I am Ashe,” he told her, “and I have come to rescue you.”

The maiden shook her sad head. “Alas, good sir, no man could possibly slay the Wurm. He draws power from the World Dragon itself. Soon, I fear, the Dragon will wake, or else die, for the damage the Wurm has done. There is no hope for you.”

“And what will you give if I defeat this creature?” he asked.

“My love for all eternity,” said the maiden at once, “and the power of the moon, should you require it.”

“Then it is as good as done,” he said, for he was truly smitten by her beauty and grace. He embraced her and kissed her, finding that her lips tasted like the sweetest mountain spring. He would have done more, but for the roar he heard within the depths of the fortress. The maiden told him it was the sound of the Wurm going down beneath the sea to feast on the World Dragon.

“That, I will not allow,” he said, and took off after the creature. Down he went, into the earth, so that there was no light, but he could light a flame upon his hand which showed him the way. At last, after he had descended for a full day, he saw the great Wurm below him, gnawing at a white pillar of the earth.
“Stop!” he commanded. “And fight me!”

The Wurm ceased its feeding, turned its vast, grey, eyeless head and spat putrescent poison at him. Ashe burned the poison down to noxious smoke, and set fire to the Wurm’s tail. As it bellowed and crashed about beneath the earth, Ashe set into it with the Sword of the Dragon, piercing it until its fat, grey sides ran with black blood. At last, the daemon shuddered for pain, and died. The creatures which live below the earth came creeping out, and began to eat the Wurm’s flesh. Ashe ascended to the fortress and found the maiden.
“You said you would love me,” he said. “Will you be my wife?”

“The Wurm ate my cloak long ago,” she confessed, “so I cannot fly. But even if I could, I would be your wife.”

He called for her sisters. As the other swan maidens bore the two of them aloft, the one he had saved warned him, “I said I would be your wife, and I will, but the Wurm ate my cloak, and without it, I cannot bear the light of day.”

“No?” he asked.

“If even a single ray of the sun were to strike me, I would fade like morning mist, therefore I implore you to keep me safe from the eyes of men, and to hide me during the day. Will you consent?”

He promised that he would.

“I should also tell you that when I laugh, flowers of the moon drop from my mouth, which can cure any illness, but when I weep, diamonds and pearls fall from my eyes. When I brush my hair, I can fill a room with air as fresh and cool as a night summer breeze, so you see, you will never have want of anything on my account.”

“That is good,” he said, and embraced her. Just then, the swans passed over the terrible battle which his people and his allies still fought against the army of monsters. He saw that in the face of the demons, his people were hard set, and that the majority of his allies were slain. “You said that you would give me the power of the moon,” he said to his bride, “I have need of that power now.”

She and her sisters bowed their heads, and the light of the moon shone brightly through the evil clouds with which the demons had covered the land in darkness. Where the light touched, the monsters and demons shrieked and writhed, for they could not bear the cool fire of it. With their enemies so weakened, Men and their allies slew the last of them. The swan maidens flew down to the earth and embraced their sister and wept, for they would be forever parted. When they had flown away, Ashe returned to his men with his new bride. He found the world of Men in shambles, the great cities torn to the earth, and many good men slain. Of the bird men and the dwarves, few remained, though they thanked him for the relief he had brought. A’Fahl, of the descendants of the unicorns, felt differently.

“All of my brothers are slain,” he said, weeping bitterly, “and your men savaged my wife and took her magic in your absence. You and I shall be friends nevermore, until the ending of the World.” He swore off all friendship with Men, and withdrew to his forest. Ashe cared nothing for that, for he reasoned they were never friends at the start. The swan maiden laughed until she had made enough flowers to heal what Men still lived, and cried for their loss until she had given each of them enough treasure on which to live comfortably. He went to the palace where he lived, bringing along his new bride. His previous wife had thought him dead, and hanged herself for grief at his loss. That being the case, he made arrangements to marry the swan maiden immediately.

It took nearly a decade for his kingdom to recover from the ravages of the army of monsters, but at last it began to flourish again. Ashe had long since set the Sword up above his throne in order to show off its greatness. However, his happiness was yet incomplete, as the swan maiden had not given him a child, and he began to tire of her constant hiding in the dark. Whispers that his wife was ugly, or misshapen, or even a witch began to wend their way to his ears. He tried to quell the rumors, but his efforts only served to fuel the flames of the stories, and they became worse than ever. This infuriated him more, for he knew his wife to be more beautiful than any alive.

“You must show yourself at court,” he told her one day as she brushed her hair and filled their bedchamber with fresh air. She wept aloud and pleaded with him not to will so, but he would not be swayed no matter how she filled the room with pearls and diamonds. He left her with his command and went about his own business.

When he returned that evening, the swan maiden presented him with a lock of her silver hair.

“I thought if you could present this at court, that your people might see that if even my hair is so fine and fair, they would know that I must be as well.”
Ashe agreed to the proposition, and took the lock with him the next day and showed it off to his people. At first they marveled at the silver sheen, and the way the lock caught the light and sparkled, but soon enough the rumors began again. “She must be an old woman indeed,” murmured some, “to sport such a pale color. It is no wonder the king is ashamed of her.”

Hearing these, he confronted his wife again, demanding she appear before his fellows where they could see the truth of her beauty. Again she threw herself at his feet, entreating his love for her to keep her from such a sorry fate. He refused.

“Would my lord that I send them a finger?” she asked. “I could cut one off, and then they could see the smoothness of my skin and know that I am not old.”

He consented to this plan, and the swan maiden cut free her smallest finger to present to her lord’s people. With pride, he displayed the finger at court, and at first his men marveled at the skin pale and smooth as cream, before they once more began their whispering. “It is because her face is too hideous to display that he brings but a finger,” they said.

Again Ashe confronted his wife, and again she pleaded for him to spare her. As before, he hardened his heart against her pleas.

“I am able to pluck out one of my eyes, for I am fortunate to have two, and can do well enough with one,” she said. “When they see how brightly it shines, surely even the most doubtful will be convinced.”

This plan suited Ashe ill, but she at last convinced him that it was their only recourse, and he consented. He presented the swan maiden’s silvery eye to his subjects, who marveled that he should have a fallen star in his hand. At last, they seemed convinced of his wife’s beauty, as each marveled at the luster of the eye. “It gives a light of its own, like a star,” each man said to his peers. For some time, there were no rumors and Ashe lived in peace with his wife, but at last the evil talk began again: “In all this time, he has yet shown us only pieces. If she is so beautiful, why does she not present herself? There is no way to know if all this evidence was from the same woman!”

In a fit of rage, Ashe confronted his wife once more.

“It is no good,” he told her. “They will not be convinced unless they see you with their own eyes.”

His wife filled the room with pearls and diamonds, but knew that there was nothing more to be done. As she agreed, she begged that she might at least be granted the cover of a veil to keep off the sun’s rays, and to shut the windows against its scorching light. To this, he consented, and left his wife amidst her sparkling tears.

The next day she appeared in a thick veil, as proposed, and with the shutters drawn for her safety. The court was not pleased, as only the faintest outline of her face could be seen. They demanded she remove the veil. Ashe commanded her to do likewise. Pearls and diamonds fell from beneath the fabric, into her lap.

“My lord, perhaps if I were to lift it only a hand’s breath, that might please them,” she suggested, and he agreed.

“What a lovely chin!” exclaimed some of the courtiers. Still others said, “A chin is nothing! We are not convinced!”

The swan maiden begged that she only lift the veil another hand’s breadth, and her lord husband consented.

“What a shapely mouth!” exclaimed still more. Others rejoined, “A chin and mouth only! Did our king never look to her eyes?”

Ashe commanded her once more to raise her veil, and granted a hand’s breadth when his wife asked it.

“What a slender nose!” was the exclamation now. Still, the naysayers were not convinced, though it seemed their decries were mingled with awe and curiosity.

Again she was bid to lift the veil, and again she asked for a hand’s breadth. Her remaining eye sparkled and flashed in the darkness. The courtiers fell silent for awe. They whispered amongst themselves, “It is true, the queen is the fairest woman that ever was, or ever will be!” and they praised Ashe, their king.

Ashe breathed a sigh of relief, but his wife jumped to her feet with a scream that pierced the rafters of the hall, and vanished suddenly from before their eyes. A young lord had been so captivated by the queen’s beauty that he had risked opening one of the shutters, reasoning that he could see her better in the light. As soon as the first ray had fallen upon her forehead, the swan maiden had burned away like mist.

Ashe leaped to his feet and rushed to where his wife had stood, but found only the heavy veil with the sunlight falling across it. Suddenly he recalled the promise he had made to her, to keep her safe, and lamented his hard-heartedness with a shriek of agony. He fell, as if in a swoon, against his throne, and the golden chair started ever so slightly from its place. As he struggled to regain his feet, the Sword, which he had mounted above the throne, fell from its place and its point drove through his head, killing him.

His people wondered greatly at what they had just seen, and feared for what should become of them, and who next should take up the Sword to lead the people. As they deliberated, a woman dressed all in white ascended to the throne where Ashe lay dead. All marveled what she might be, this woman with her dark hair and darker eyes, who should approach the dead king so boldly? Even as they wondered, she took up the Sword, and held it aloft.

“The Dragon is ashamed of Men,” she said to the throng, “and of the heir to the Eagle-Crested King. Monsters and demons have been slain, and the Fae no longer ravage your number as they once did, but it seems that in their absence Men have become monsters and demons in their place.”

All the court held its breath, waiting to see what she should say, for they perceived that she must be the Faery Queen who had first bestowed the Sword on that great Eagle King.

“The World now groans under the burden which Men have placed on it,” she went on, “The Dragon will turn its favor from you, and put it elsewhere. The Sword will never again come into the hands of any man, lest he be the most worthy of it.”
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They all lamented as she fell silent, and vanished from their sight. And it was many ages before the Dragon trusted its power to Men again. But that is for some other time.